"Do not show this to Stephen unless you are absolutely compelled. I love the boy and I want him to think the best of the woman who is gone. So no more. Good-bye to you, my dear Herrick. You have been a good friend to me. Continue to be so to my boy. And also if you have any religion (which I doubt) pray for the soul of Bianca Marsh!"
"And here I sign my name for the last time.
"Bianca Marsh."
When Herrick finished this extraordinary document, he laid it down with a sigh for the memory of the wrong-headed impulsive woman who had written it. She had acted foolishly, but for the best. And since the poor soul had gone to her account Herrick could not find it in his heart to blame her. After a pause he took up the typewritten letter.
It was typed in purple ink, was without date or address, and even the signature of Frisco was in print. It ran as follows:--
"If you do not make your son do justice to me and to my 'son, I will write and tell the police that you murdered Colonel Carr. I must have half the money left by Carr allowed to me by arrangement. You can answer my letter by an advertisement in the Daily Telegraph. Then I will write to you and make arrangements. All I want to know now is whether you will insist upon your son giving the money, or face the disgrace of being arrested for the murder. I have a witness who can prove your presence in the house. If necessary I will come forward and give myself up. I can save myself and condemn you. Choose. I shall look every morning in the paper.
Frisco."
Herrick read this precious letter over twice. He wondered that it was typed instead of written, not that he did not see the reason for this, but that he wondered how a hunted fugitive like Frisco could procure a machine. Then the truth flashed into his mind.
"Robin," said Herrick rolling up the papers, "Frisco met him, went to his chambers, and disclosed the fact that he was his father. Ha! Between the two of them they wrote this letter so as to frighten Mrs. Marsh into giving them the money through her influence over Stephen. Robin typed the letter and sent it. The little scamp. He did not tell me that. Humph! I shall go again to town and see him. Then Frisco must be produced from his hiding-place. Robin can and shall do that."
This was all very well, but still the mystery of Carr's death was unsolved. Mrs. Marsh was innocent. She declared Frisco to be guilty. On the face of it, he was. But Herrick had his doubts. The case was getting more difficult at every fresh discovery. For the first time he mistrusted his own powers of dealing with the matter.